DIY Idea
A Decision Dice Set — Five Cubes, Thirty Prompts for a Stuck Week
Five wooden dice, thirty handwritten prompts, dropped into a small pouch with one rule: when you can't decide, roll one. For someone you care about stuck on a real choice. Thirty minutes to make.
Materials
- Five 1.5–2 in blank wooden dice (smooth, unfinished — six faces each = thirty prompts total)
- A fine-tipped black permanent marker (one color — the consistency reads as a deck, not a craft project)
- A small drawstring pouch or muslin bag, 4×5 in (something pocketable — this is meant to live in a desk drawer, not on a shelf)
- One folded note card, 3×5 in, for the rule
- Optional: a tiny notebook (A7 or pocket-size) for jotting what the roll surfaced
You can't think your way out of a thought loop. You have to interrupt it.
Instructions
- 01
Write thirty prompts. One per face, six per die. Aim at real questions someone stuck on a decision would actually need — not strategy-deck prompts. The rule of thumb: if it sounds like something a thoughtful friend would say at 11 p.m. on a Tuesday, keep it. If it sounds like a workshop facilitator, cut it.
- 02
Group them into five themes — one per die. Suggested cuts (adapt to what's on their mind): the body (What does your gut already know? / When did you last sleep on this? / What would your shoulders do if this were already decided?); the people (Who in your life would you trust to call this? / Who are you trying not to disappoint?); the time (What does this look like in five years if you do it? / In five years if you don't?); the worst case (If it goes wrong, what's the actual cost? / Could you live with the worst version?); the next move (What's the smallest thing you could do tomorrow? / What would you tell a friend in this exact spot?). Write the lists on scratch paper first, edit them down to six per die, then commit.
- 03
Write one prompt on each face. Black marker, all caps or all lowercase — pick one and stay with it. No icons, no color-coding. Keep the visual flat and quiet so the words do the work.
- 04
Write the rule card. One side: When you can't decide, pull one. Roll it once. Don't roll again. Sit with it ten minutes. Other side: The dice aren't smarter than you. They're just louder than the loop. This card is half the gift — see the card script below for the full version.
- 05
Put it all in the pouch. Dice loose, rule card folded on top. If you're including the small notebook, slide it alongside. Drawstring tight. Give it the next time you see them — or, if they're in the middle of a hard stretch, drop it on their desk with no preamble.
What to write inside
For [their name] — when you can't decide.
The rule: when the same question is on the eighth lap of your head, pull out the pouch, pick a die, roll it once. Don't roll again. Sit with whatever face comes up for ten minutes.
The dice aren't smarter than you. They're just louder than the loop.
— [your name]
Sign however you would — With love, Rooting for you, All my best, or just your name.
Pro Tips
- The bro-coded version is the failure mode. Strategy / Disruption / Synergy / Pivot prompts make the gift feel like a Lean Startup workshop, not a friend. Write the prompts in the voice of the person who'd actually help them think it through. The point is to interrupt a spiral, not to coach a board meeting.
- Use their actual stuck question to pressure-test. Before you finalize the prompts, picture the specific choice you think they're spinning on (the job offer, the move, the conversation they keep rehearsing). If at least eight of the thirty prompts wouldn't move that exact question forward, the deck is too abstract. Rewrite.
- One roll, then stop. The reason the dice work is forced commitment — you have to sit with whatever comes up. If they reroll until they get the answer they wanted, it's just procrastination with extra steps. The rule card is the load-bearing part.
- A pocket version travels. Smaller dice (¾ in) in a coin purse fit in a jacket pocket or a bag. Same thirty prompts, same rule. Useful for someone whose stuck moments tend to happen mid-day at work, not late-night at home.